


Burning Rubber

by ashes0909



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Just motorcycles, M/M, Motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9467414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909
Summary: The two of them, they're in a new place in their friendship. Tony had flirted one too many times and Steve had finally reacted with a flirtation of his own. A tease about Tony’s pretty face that had shut him up quicker than the Avengers Assemble signal.The Avenger’s call, he expects to happen. Steve Rogers flirting with him? That is something entirely new.And now Steve's mostly naked in the garage.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the /r/fanfiction January Challenge, where I was tasked with including two out of three words. I chose Rubber and Horsepower. Thank you so much to my two lovely betas FestiveFerret and Hermit9. I couldn't do it without you ladies.
> 
> This fic was also inspired by the amazing, lovely fanart by Tafferlicious.

 

                                                                                                                                     

Fanart by [Taff](http://tafferlicious.tumblr.com)

 

Tony needs to get away, needs just a second to clear his mind of formulas and hypotheticals. He foregoes the elevator and takes the stairs two at a time until he’s in the lower level of the Tower. The ground floor and the one above it are devoted to cars and bikes, both are about the size of a football field and, still, he hardly has room for all his toys.

Now the other Avengers have moved in, bringing with them their assortment of motorcycles and SHIELD towncars, even Bruce’s old Volkswagen- it makes him consider building a new floor for it all.

He pushes open the door onto the ground level, searching for as much fresh air as he can find this far from balconies. A few strides later and he leans against the Lamborghini Veneno.

Between one breath and the next, the numbers start to fade from his mind, the loop of endless possibilities calms. The fleeting desire for a drink enters and quickly exits his mind. It’s been days since his last one, but he needs to figure this formula out. The stakes are higher now, after the Battle of New York.

He catches his reflection in the window of the Bugatti Veyron across from him. His hair is frayed from his hand running through it too many times. He has a swipe of motor oil on his cheek. When was the last time he used motor oil?

An engine slows on the street, and the booming mechanical sound of the garage door opening isn’t enough to pull his attention from his own reflection. The bags under his eyes are deep and he can’t remember the last time he’s slept. He feels dazed.

“Everything all right?” Steve’s voice cuts through, and with a turn of his head he is greeted by the sight of Captain America. Tony is suddenly aware of the fact that he’s only wearing sweatpants and a sleeveless undershirt. His arc reactor shines dimly between them. Steve’s uniform always makes him appear broader and more imposing than simple, regular clothes.

And as if Steve has read his thoughts, he starts to unbuckle his uniform.

Tony just stares as he pulls off the cowl. Hands moving quickly for his belt, unlatching it before unbuckling the shield holster. For a moment, he stands solid in the armor, fabric wrapped around his shoulders and biceps, star shining bright under the hanging light, before he reaches back and pulls at the zipper that releases it all, like a second skin. And then Steve stands in front of Tony in the garage, in his boxers.

“What?” Tony asks, and he can feel his cheeks heat. He has to swallow before trying to speak again. “What is going on?”

Steve actually laughs, like this is the most normal thing to be happening in their garage, before he walks around to the other side of the bike and opens the side satchel, pulling out a water bottle.

A daze, Tony remembers, that is what this feels like. That’s why he can’t pull his eyes away from the muscles around Steve’s neck, shifting as he swallows. Or stop fixating on his hand around the bottle.

The two of them, they're in a new place in their friendship.Tony had flirted one too many times and Steve had finally reacted with a flirtation of his own. A tease about Tony’s pretty face that had shut him up quicker than the Avengers Assemble signal. The Avenger’s call, he expects to happen. Steve Rogers flirting with him? That is something entirely new.

And now he’s mostly naked in the garage.

“I just got back from my mission,” Steve says, lifting his arm to wipe at his mouth and Tony is _not_ following the way the water curls into the valley between two muscles. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Tony steps back before remembering that he is leaning against the Lamborghini. “I’m fine. Just, uh, working a bit too hard.”

Steve puts his hands on his hips in obvious disapproval, and Tony wishes he’d put on a shirt already, especially now that he is practically posing. The garage may not have the brightest light but he can easily see the subtle line of blonde hair along the boxers’ waistband. No one ever comes out of the army modest, Tony concludes. He finally draws his eyes back to Steve’s face where he is surprised to find a frown. “Have you been awake since I left?”

“Yes?”

“Tony, that was 53 hours ago.”

“Whoops?” He doesn’t really feel that bad about it, he’s had longer benders and the energy from being deep into a project still runs through his veins.

Steve points with his water bottle at Tony. “You should go to bed.” It’s an order. One he has no intention of following.

“You should put on some clothes,” he counters.

Steve snorts, reaching back into the bag to pull out a pair of navy pants. “You seem awfully fixated on my naked state,” he says, casually, as he puts on the pants, but a thrill still shoots up Tony’s spine. He’s flirting again, and Tony has every intention of following where it goes. Especially since he is still mostly naked. Why was he was such a proponent of reminding Steve about clothes in the first place?

A white, SHIELD issue t-shirt is the next thing out of the bag and he slips it over his head, the fabric tousling his hair so that when it settles around his shoulders he looks as ruffled as Tony feels. “Tony,” he says, shirt still bunched around his chest, abs slowly disappearing behind the fabric. “You want to go for a ride?”

Okay, so he is dreaming. That’s what this is, that’s the only thing that makes sense.

“I came by to get out of the uniform,” Steve continues, “but I can’t go up yet. Too much adrenaline from the mission.” He is saying words but all Tony hears is the innuendo-laced question,  _You want to go for a ride?_ “And you seem a little out of it too,” he says around a smirk and Tony no longer thinks he is dreaming but Steve _is_ fucking with him...right? “Fresh air could help.”

Tony looks at the bike for the first time, and realizes Steve hasn’t even taken the key out of the ignition. “Just a stopover?”

“Do you think I normally undress in the garage, if I'm just going to go up to my room?”

“Yes?” Tony has no idea what he thought. He hasn’t been thinking since Steve undressed.

Pushing away from the car, he grabs the helmet Steve hands his way but the other man doesn’t let go. He holds on until Tony’s eyes meet his. “You look a little flushed.” The corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk and he lets go of the helmet.

“Oh, fuck you,” Tony drawls and Steve laughs, and the sound causes something warm to bubble in his chest.

“I’m only worried about your health.”

“Sure you are,” Tony says, and swings his leg over to straddle the bike. He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, knows his sweatpants were pulling tight around his legs.

“You’re going to need a jacket,” Steve announces out of nowhere.  

“On the hook by the door,” Tony replies and in the next moment, his vision is obscured by leather. “Real mature, Rogers.” He pulls the jacket off his head and slides it on.

Steve chuckles, warm and amused before sliding right in front of him. They both quiet for a moment, the sensation of their bodies pressing together cuts off any thought that tries to enter Tony’s mind. The key turns next and the engine revs to life between their legs.

When the bike shoots forward, Tony clutches around Steve’s waist. They slow for the garage door to open, and Steve takes a moment to look over his shoulder. There's a half smirk on Steve's face that Tony wonders if he imagines but he doesn’t think he does, especially when Steve settles further into Tony’s arms and asks, “You wanna burn rubber?”

Tony barks out a laugh at the line. “That slang may be a little dated.”

He can see Steve lift an eye under the helmet visor. “Did you understand the reference?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think I got my point across,” Steve says, and then the motorcycle zooms forward into the street. Tony’s arms return like a vice around Steve’s waist as he increases the horsepower. He feels the sudden urge the throw his head back and shout, but resists. Instead he pushes his visor up and lets the wind hit his face.

Steve is leading them outside the city. The route is clear but long and it only takes a dozen or so minutes until Tony wishes he had worn underwear under his sweatpants. The vibration of the bike, the way Steve keeps pushing back into him, all of it is adding up to one uncomfortable situation. He prays that Steve won’t feel it, but he knows the supersoldier’s senses are beyond human.

He inches his hips back as they leave the New York skyscrapers for the Brooklyn Bridge. Steve’s hips follow his own, grinding in a way that Tony questions is intentional. Either way, Tony can’t help pushing into the pressure. Pleasure running up his cock as the rushing air from their speed creates a barrier between them and the rest of the world.

Tony drops his forehead between Steve’s shoulders and remembers what it had looked like to see the suit come off his body. Armor shedding to reveal curved muscle and far too much skin.

Steve’s hand twists behind and he’s reaching blind for Tony’s thigh. He lands high, fingers curving into his hip crease, giving it a squeeze. He’s trying to tell him something, or provide a reassurance, but all it does is make Tony buck forward and collide his hips harder into Steve’s.

The bike jerks, once, before the pressure lessens as Steve slides forward. Tony almost whines but a flood of panic interrupts his disappointment. Did Steve not mean to initiate? Was all this -the flirtations and the contact- just part of his 53 hour science haze?

Steve turns off the main road, driving another couple of minutes over a dirt road that jostles them so much Tony has to tighten his thighs around Steve’s. Then they are there, wherever there is. They’re surrounded by trees. A lake glints sunlight off its surface in front of them.

That is the last thing he notices before Steve catches his full attention. He takes off his helmet and turns on the bike so his hips are facing the treeline. He’s so close now, his eyes wide and blue and asking so many questions. Swallowing, he settles on one. “Feel any better?”

The noise that comes out of Tony’s throat isn’t so much a laugh as it is a growl and he rips off his helmet and puts a fist into Steve’s white, SHIELD tee, pulling him close. He takes a moment to savor the satisfaction of surprising the Captain before asking a question of his own. “Do you mind if I kiss you, Steve?”

The blue eyes widen further and his pale cheeks flush red. Tony feels a smirk spread across his face. Steve’s eyes narrow in reaction, just like they always do when Tony smirks at Steve’s behavior. He rises to the challenge beautifully, every time.

Only this time, instead of shouting, Steve’s lips part, not quite closing the space between them but his eyes are glued to Tony’s lips. He waits, wanting Steve to answer, suddenly it is so necessary that he hear the words come out of his mouth.

With what looks like a struggle, he watches Steve tear his gaze away from his lips and connect with his own. “Do you,” he stops, licks his lips. Tony’s eyes fix on the motion. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“I’m asking.” His fingers fist around the fabric of Steve’s shirt and he pulls him even closer still.

Steve groans, lifting a hand to cup the back of Tony’s head. “Yes.” The word comes out loud and clear. “Do it.” He uses his Captain tone and Tony lurches forward on instinct, closing the final centimeters between them. Steve’s lips yield under his own, opening easily so they can taste each other for the first time.

They groan in unison around the kiss, helmets dropping to the ground as they both clutch at each other’s arms. Tony bites at Steve's lower lip and he replies by arching into him, dragging their chests together.

Steve breaks the kiss first, needing to catch his breath and Tony smirks into his shoulder. “Am I too much for you, old man?”

In reply Steve raises an eyebrow and lifts Tony off the bike and lays him on the grass in one smooth motion. By the time Tony can think to struggle, Steve is already letting go.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a blanket for a picnic date?” Tony asks, and he knows he is using humor to mask his very obvious interest in Steve’s reaction to the word ‘date’.

“Call it impromptu,” he says, as he settles next to Tony on the grass. He shifts, brushing his navy clad legs against Tony’s sweatpants as he rests his weight on his elbow. Leaning over him, his eyes brighten with amusement and it makes Tony want to touch him again. “Next time I’ll get you a blanket, doll.”

Tony scoffs and pushes at his elbow so he falls onto Tony’s chest. “You’re going to have to butter me up real nice, if you want to get away with calling me doll.”

“You’re the one fussing like a princess.”

“You’re the one taking me on impromptu park dates.”

Steve beams at his words, then his gaze darkens with an almost possessive satisfaction. “Yes, I am.” And he surges forward, almost biting at Tony’s lips as he pushes his tongue into his mouth, heat from earlier rushing back like a fire through them both.

He expects many things from Steve. He expects the uniform, and the motorcycle. The hesitancy and the enthusiasm. But he does not expect Steve’s hand to slip under his waistband and wrap around his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hips thrusting forward. “Steve, what-”

“I want to,” Steve says, like it isn’t a revelation, or even something out of the norm between them. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” he whines, intentionally thrusting his hips now because he is way too eager for this and Steve’s hand feels way too good on his cock. With a twist of his wrist, Steve's palm flattens against the head and Tony sees stars.

He isn’t going to last long. The grinding from earlier, Steve’s fucking striptease, and the wonderfully perfect pressure of Steve’s hand against his cock, it’s all too much. He wants Steve too. Wants to do more than lay here and let Steve have his way with him, and his cock pulses at that thought even as his hands reach out for Steve.

“Let me,” he gasps. “I want to.”

Steve lets go of Tony for a moment, lying back just far enough to pull at his navy pants. Tony has a hand around his cock even before he finishes removing them, and when he grips hard and strokes, Steve leaves the pants stuck on his thighs to lean his head against the grass and moan.

“Get over here,” Tony says, pulling at Steve so he turns on his side, moving until he’s lined their cocks together, and the way Steve’s eyes widen tells him everything he needs to know about his experience with this position. “Hey,” he says, lifting Steve’s chin so his gaze moves from their cocks to his own. “This is going to feel amazing.”

Steve lets out a breath. “It already does.”

He starts a lazy stroke around both their cocks. “We’re going to have grass in uncomfortable places,” he says conversationally and Steve laughs until Tony twists his hand and then he’s moaning again. “Next time there’ll be blanket and lube but for now-” Tony spits onto his hand and immediately the skin slides easier together.

“Oh, Tony.” He gasps and the sound shoots through Tony, a bubble of precum falling from his cockhead.

“Yea,” he agrees. “I’m not going to last.”

“Me,” Steve groans, hips jolting and causing his cock to catch on Tony’s. “Fuck. Me either.” His hips are rocking in rhythm now in Tony’s hand, precum adding to the exquisite slide. “I had hoped, you’d want-”

“Was that why you performed your striptease?” Tony asks, hand tightening to an almost painful grip and they both writhe under it. Lips crashing together in another heated kiss.

Steve breaks apart to shake his head. “Really, just a stopover.”

“So how often are you getting naked in my garage?” Tony asks against Steve’s neck before taking a bite of the soft skin. He notes the way Steve’s cock pulses in response and files it away for later.

Later, so many more opportunities for this. They both want it, he can see it clearly in Steve’s eyes, in the way he’s throwing his head back and thrusting his hips forward. He knows, in the way Steve couldn’t drive to this place fast enough, couldn’t keep his hands off of him when they arrived.

They aren’t even naked. Hands down each other's pants, rolling in the grass by a deserted lake and just the image of it in his mind is enough to set him off. He bites at Steve’s shoulder when he comes, growling as Steve chooses that moment to add his hand to the fun. One more pull and Steve is following him over the edge. He’s beautiful, the waves of pleasure running over his face, and Tony kisses him through it.

When they pull apart, the sun is starting to set low behind the lake and for a while they both lay in the grass, breathing, heads resting on each other’s biceps.

“Where are we?” Tony asks.

“Somewhere far away and secluded,” Steve answers.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Not a clue. Just had to get off the road before I came in my pants.”

Tony rolls onto his hip, trailing a finger down Steve’s white, SHIELD tee. “That doesn’t sound very safe, Captain.”

“Safe? Me?” He grins. “I'm merely revving horsepower and burning rubber with my best doll.”

Tony rolls, putting his weight on Steve and suddenly they’re wrestling. Twisting against the ground and fighting for the upper hand. “I don’t care what decade you’re from, you’re not calling me doll.”

“Hardly called anyone doll back then either.” He swings his weight so that he’s straddling Tony. “But I think I like it on you.”

A blush rises to Tony's cheeks, he can feel it, and the air around them shifts. “I did like the, what did you call it? Revving horsepower and burning rubber. It was good. Cleared my, uh, head. But that language. What have you been watching? Someone needs to get you out of the 90s.”

“I don’t know,” Steve grinds again, not really aiming to go anywhere with the movement, but shifting because he’s straddling Tony and can. “I think you liked your _ride_.”

Tony groans, lifting a hand to cover his face. “You are so cheesy.”

“That's what happens when pop culture educates you on modern day romances.” Steve grins then looks over his shoulder. “You wanna go for a swim?”

And before he can even answer Steve is back in his boxers again. This time Tony doesn't even think about talking him out of it, just leans back and enjoys the show.

 

_FIN._

  
  



End file.
